


per aspera ad astra (through difficulties to the stars)

by narcissism



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, give me prompts!, i cry about them a lot, tell me what you want to see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6026794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissism/pseuds/narcissism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine this: in another world, I deserve you. No, wait, just give me a second and hear me out. In 1895, an American philosopher and psychologist named William James coined a term called multiverse. Now, I won't blather on about it, but it's this hypothetical set of finite and simultaneously infinite <em>possible</em> universes. And now within these infinite possible universes, there exist, at any given moment, several different universes where we end up happy. <em>We</em> are together in a hundred, a thousand, a million, even, different instances - now, with that in mind, this just happens to be one where we <em>can't be<em>.</em></em>"<br/><br/><em>(the hundred of worlds where clarke and lexa end up together.)</em><br/>chapter three: youtuber au<br/>chapter four: slowburn neighbors</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. if in the hands of gods you have lost your way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prologue & verse one: ice skating rink, meet cute.

"Imagine this: in another world, I deserve you. No, wait, just give me a second and hear me out. In 1895, an American philosopher and psychologist named William James coined a term called multiverse. Now, I won't blather on about it, but it's this hypothetical set of finite and simultaneously infinite _possible_ universes. And now within these infinite possible universes, there exist, at any given moment, several different universes where we end up happy. _We_ are together in a hundred, a thousand, a million, even, different instances - now, with that in mind, this just happens to be one where we _can't be _.__

"But isn't that comforting? You can rest assured that there exists a world, out there, somewhere, where you love me and I love you. Maybe in that one, we're in a long term relationship - one that I can actually settle into and one that you're more than happy to be in. In that world, maybe we would make cakes and end up with more frosting on our faces than on the actual cake itself. Maybe we get two fancy meals at a dimly lit restaurant and eat it family style. Maybe we would exist together without draining one another dry. And most importantly, maybe we could be together without the burden of several thousand lives hanging over us collectively, like a omnipresent grim reaper just waiting to collect.

"In another one, we could be dancing in the center of a room, rings flashing bright on our fingers, cheeks pressed to shoulders, nothing to worry about except how to get from point a to point b in preparation for a honeymoon. In this one, maybe you don't have such a morbid fascination with your own impending death. Maybe in this world, smiles flow like water and laughs aren't a treasure you need to search long and hard for - and rather, become a luxury that you can just ask for. In this one, we have a son and our biggest concern would be sending him to a good school, instead of dueling people to the death and waging war.

"In those worlds, you can  _stay_ and I can  _love._ And in those worlds, it wouldn't matter where we were, because we would've have found each other and it could've been all okay. But in this one, I crashed down from the stars, and don't you just  _know_ it, girls made from stardust can only be admired from lightyears away.

"But if you think about this multiverse theory, it makes sense. We can't be together in this one because there are literal worlds between us: worlds where we fall in love and don't feel the need to fight for our lives every single damn day, worlds where we're happy together, worlds where we are just two girls in love instead of two girls who carry the hopes and dreams of their people on their shoulders.

 "So in that sense, it makes total sense that we're just on the verge of having everything and tipping over into having nothing, because we're  _starcrossed_ , no, versecrossed, even. This love spans universes in all their entireties of time, space, and matter.

"And when we lose it all, think of the multiverse. So rest your hopes on infinity, because I know that you could have loved me forever. And maybe in one of those infinite possible worlds, I let you. But not this one. Not here, and not now."

* * *

 

_one._

 

God damn, this is more expensive than I expected, is Clarke's first thought. She voices this thought to Octavia, leaning in and whispering it quickly in her ear. She quickly collects her debit card from the girl manning the cash register, and heads over to tie her skates on. Okay, admittedly ice-skating is not exactly the most original idea for a "group-date", as her friends had dubbed the outing, citing that they missed each other (never mind the fact that they had all been on a skiing trip together not a week ago) and wanted to spend time together, but hey, no arguments from her.

Except for the fourteen dollars her bank account is now missing.

Moving on from that, really, she has no other concerns, too busy getting ready to  _smoke_ the others in skating. Snowboarding? Eh, she was alright. Octavia beat her in that, no contest. Skiing? Bellamy was much better, hands down. But the ice? The ice is her domain. She had grown up learning to figure skate,  _no one's_ going to best her today.

She laces up the white skates she had brought with her, biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep her smile in check.

Octavia slides up next to her on the bench and bumps her shoulder into her side. "Can you look any more cocky? We all know you're ready to whoop our asses, but you can at least pretend not too look so pleased."

"No can do, O," she winks. Standing up fluidly and looking utterly at home balancing on two blades, she extends her hand to Octavia. "Ready to go? I'll even hold your hand," she coos. 

Octavia rolls her eyes and interlaces their fingers, walking out onto the ice only slightly unsteadily, natural athletic prowess helping her immensely. They start off easily, hands swinging between them as Clarke sets a fluid pace for the two of them while they wait for the rest of the group. Monty and Miller waddle out next, though, surprisingly, it's Miller that's leaning heavily on the wall.

Clarke laughs loudly, and Octavia wolfwhistles at Monty, effectively earning them the attention of the pair, as well as the disapproving glares of all nearby patrons. Monty shrugs easily and says, "Winter in a rural setting, nothing to do but skate, right?"

Harper and Monroe are out next. Harper springs to life on the ice, skating circles around Monroe and laughing, ashy brown hair swinging out around her freely. It's nice to see that even after her stint at the hospital, she retains the life and vitality she's known for, Clarke thinks to herself. It's a drastic change from seeing the girl dwarfed by machines and starch white linens, and not a bad one at all.

Bellamy comes out last and looks like a newborn colt who is just learning that he has legs. Octavia nearly upends herself laughing when he falls flat on his ass not five seconds after entering. He gives her a frown and attempts to scrabble around to get back to a standing position. She only laughs harder when he ends up with his jeans soaked and still sitting on the ground. Clarke then takes pity on him and skates over easily and offers a hand, braking quickly when she nears him and effectively spraying him with ice scraped up from the rink.

"Show-off, much?" He snarks good-naturedly, taking the proffered hand gratefully. "Thanks, princess."

She skates with him for a while, hand warm in his, laughing as he continues to fall despite her enduring presence. He clutches at the wall and groans. She pushes him from behind teasingly, and he swats at her. She laughs and speeds up to leave, skating a full round, alternating between going backwards and forwards, skating easily without a second thought. She catches up to Octavia, who is still chuckling as she watches Bellamy finally find his way to the benches around the edges.

When she tires of skating rings and dodging kids that wipe out constantly, she makes her way over to the benches to sit next to Bellamy.

"Hey C." He greets tiredly.

"Don't you just love skating?" She teases.

"Don't you even start with me now. O's never gonna let me live this down."

"Aw, sorry, Bell. Still love you!"

"Why'd you stop? Not like you're sore from falling," he asks, looking over curiously.

"Texting Raven. I promised her I would."

He nods and quiets down, content to silently watch their friends skate around freely.

 

To: Raven Reyes - 1:33 pm  
so how's work?

From: Raven Reyes - 1:33 pm  
how's being an asshole?

To: Raven Reyes - 1:34 pm  
HAHAHA  
touché, reyes, i'll let you have that one.

From: Raven Reyes - 1:34 pm  
how is everyone

To: Raven Reyes - 1:35 pm  
bell ate shit like five times  
in unrelated news, o nearly died five times  
monty and miller are disgustingly cute  
harp&monroe look great  
we all miss you

From: Raven Reyes - 1:35 pm  
no shit, i would miss me too.  
send me a video

To: Raven Reyes - 1:36 pm  
shut up asshole  
attached: mov_12394.mp4

From: Raven Reyes - 1:38 pm  
holy SHIT that ice guard is hot

To: Raven Reyes - 1:38 pm  
who?

From: Raven Reyes - 1:39 pm  
brunette, skates through frame  
looks right into your camera for a split second

To: Raven Reyes - 1:39 pm  
raven that's fucking octavia you asshole

To: Raven Reyes - 1:40 pm  
holy SHIT no you're right she's hot

To: Raven Reyes - 1:40 pm  
she's skating with a 10 y/o boy  
how do i get her attention

From: Raven Reyes - 1:41 pm  
eat some major shit  
ooooo help, hot guard, i've fallen and  
i can't get up

To: Raven Reyes - 1:43 pm  
say i won't

From: Raven Reyes - 1:44 pm  
you won't

 

She slides her phone back into her pocket and stands to go back into the rink, eyes keeping track of the brunette, telling Bellamy over her shoulder to take a video. It isn't hard to keep track of her, by any means. The guard is stunning with her California tanned skin glowing under the afternoon sun and green eyes glinting as she smiles down at the boy she's skating next to. Also, she's wearing a red jacket with ICE GUARD emblazoned in white, so really, it's a wonder that no one else has made a move yet. Clarke sidles up next to Octavia, this time much more hesitantly, and grips onto her jacket.

"O, I need you to help me wipe out."

"What?"

"I need you to help me eat shit on this rink, right now."

Octavia looks at her like she's lost her mind.

"Less questions, more eating shit, now, O."

Rolling her eyes, Octavia grabs a hold of her hand and speeds up to a clearer spot with less people skating around them, and Clarke digs her toes in more than she should when she skates. Octavia works her way across Clarke suddenly, skates knocking against hers, knocking her off the edges of her blades and sending her sprawling onto the ice, legs flying out around her. 

She ends up almost lying down on the ice and wincing as she sits up; Octavia half-asses nothing. She's so caught up in trying to soothe every place that came in contact with the hard ice that she almost doesn't notice the approach of the ice guard.

"You alright there?" The guard crouches down, assessing her with a small half-smile that's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Is it okay if I check you for injuries?"

"Um, yeah, it's all good," she answers, dazed. She feels gentle hands on her ankles, feels them roll her ankles gently, probe at her knees and flutter over her shoulder.

"No serious injuries, do you want to get back in the lodge to rest? I'll get you something warm to drink."

Clarke nods, looking up at the ice guard, caught up in staring at her luxuriously pink lips. She lets herself get pulled to her feet by the guard, and chances a glance back at Bellamy, who is indeed filming and now flashing her a thumbs up with a shit-eating grin.

"So, tell me, how does  _the_ ice princess end up falling like that?" The guard asks, once one of her arms is positioned around her waist, and one of Clarke's arms is slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry, what?" Clarke asks, dumbfounded.

The guard graces her with a small smile. "I mean, how do you, Clarke Griffin, princess of the competitive figure skating world, end up sprawling across the ice like that?"

"Wait, how did you-" She starts. "I- um, man. Accidents happen?" Heat flares in her cheeks. God, Raven is going to have a field day with this.

"I recognize you because you competed against my half-sister once. Anya Woods?" 

"Oh, fuck." She groans. Raven's going to break her brace laughing at this rate. _Of_ _course_ she remembers Anya Woods. The competition ended up one year with Clarke in first with 0.2 points higher than Anya. When Anya came over after to confront her on winning based on a "technicality" (her Biellmann position was more on beat and thus received a small timing bonus from the judges to nudge her to victory), things had escalated quickly.

It goes a little something like this: Anya jabs her in the chest and hits her hard with her shoulder. Clarke skates over to spin her around and yell some choice words at her. Anya spins around a little more quickly than anticipated, it's on ice, duh. Her hand strikes Clarke across the face. It's unclear whether it's intentional or an unfortunate mistake. She ends up breaking Anya's nose.

The guard laughs, soft and breathy, so quiet that she almost misses it, except she's so tuned into this guard that she hears (and savors) every second of it. "Ouch, looks like you do remember her after all."

"Shit, I swear I didn't mean to," she swallows her pride, "break her nose." She looks up through her lashes, and fully expects to see this guard angrily roll her eyes (or at least do something that indicated annoyance). What she does see is the guard shaking her head, still smiling.

"Don't be. She respected you a lot more after you broke her nose." She looks a mix of exasperated and amused, with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "And if you ask me, your Biellmann position was tighter than hers, anyway. You deserved that win."

"Thanks, I guess." Clarke shrugs, wincing as she does so. "Doesn't explain how you know people call me ice princess."

They walk into the lodge and the guard deposits her onto a bench gently. " _Please,_  I'm Anya Woods' younger sister. _I_  was the one who started that name - after you beat her, of course. I'm going to get you some hot chocolate." And with that, she strides off before Clarke can stop her.

The moment the staff lounge door swings closed behind the guard, Clarke groans and slumps down in the bench. Of all people to hit on, really. Of course her shitty luck would leave her in situations like this. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she doesn't bother checking it, knowing it's probably Raven.

She returns back with a steaming cup of hot chocolate (presumably), and hands it over to Clarke, who thanks her quietly, hoping she doesn't notice the blush staining her cheeks. "I'm Lexa, by the way."

"Thanks, Lexa." Clarke sniffs delicately at the cup and takes a sip. "I'm feeling much better, thank you, and I'm sure you have more important things to tend to, like guarding the ice, or, um, keeping people safe on ice and... stuff ice guards get up to," she trails off lamely, still mortified.

"Well, I believe it's important that I make sure you're safe, too. You did take quite the fall, after all. Which brings me back to my original question: why the fall?"

Clarke looks down into her cup. Like really looks down. Looks deep down into its proverbial soul. Except it's hot chocolate, and it has no soul, and the steam only serves to make her cheeks even pinker. "I may have been trying to getyourattention." She mumbles into the rim.

"What's that?" Lexa asks, leaning closer and biting down on her bottom lip. "I didn't quite catch that."

She looks up, raising her head and ignoring the blush that spans the entirety of her cheek now. "I may have been trying to get a certain brunette ice guard's attention," she says, false bravado saturating her tone.

Lexa's eyes flick down to watch her lips as they part around the words. Her eyes are near half-lidded when she meets Clarke's eyes again. "Consider her attention completely and utterly yours. What's the plan now?"

"Get your number for a dinner date, hopefully."

She walks back out on the rink with her phone one number heavier, and her cheek tingling with the light kiss Lexa pressed to it.

Bellamy's still giving her that shit-eating grin he had pasted on his face earlier, except now the rest of her friends are all crowded around him with varying degrees of pride and disbelief painted across their faces.

She checks her phone.

 

Bellamy Blake to #SQUAD ツ - 2:13 pm  
the true american icon, clarke griffin herself, ladies and gents  
attached: mov_1655790.mp4

Raven Reyes to #SQUAD ツ - 2:14 pm  
holy shit you actually did it

Octavia Blake to #SQUAD ツ - 2:14 pm  
did you ever doubt she would

Raven Reyes to #SQUAD ツ - 2:15 pm  
did you get her number tho

Clarke Griffin to #SQUAD ツ - 2:22 pm  
i take that and raise you: one dinner date

Raven Reyes to #SQUAD ツ - 2:24 pm  
clarke griffin doing god's work, bedding that girl

Octavia Blake to #SQUAD ツ - 2:25 pm  
clarke gets all the hot ones  
anyone remember niylah?  
we don't, but she remembers clarke

Bellamy Blake to #SQUAD ツ - 2:25 pm  
echo once told me she'd nail clarke harder   
than the romans crucified jesus

Clarke Griffin to #SQUAD ツ - 2:26 pm  
that's cos echo's a bitch

Bellamy Blake to #SQUAD ツ - 2:26 pm  
tru

Monty Green to #SQUAD ツ - 2:27 pm  
stop texting this group, most of us are  
standing right next to you  
that said, both miller and i would willingly  
sleep with clarke

Raven Reyes to #SQUAD ツ - 2:27 pm  
we'll leave it on that note

 

Their first date goes - well, it goes.

Clarke brings them to a nice Italian restaurant, and when she can't decide between two dishes and Lexa proposes that they eat both family style, she nearly proposes to her right there on the spot. But she slows down and remembers that wait, this is the first date. (But how could it be a first date when it feels so familiar?)

"Okay," she says, effectively breaking the silence that ensues after they hand the menus back to the waiter. "I have a couple questions to ask - my very own compatibility test, perse."

Lexa chokes out a laugh in her surprise, and it would almost be a scoff if she wasn't smiling and it wasn't so adorable, god damn it. "Alright, sure. Ask away."

It's this moment she chooses to drink in the girl in front of her. Clarke's by no means dressed shabbily - no, she's wearing an  _obscenely_ nice silver dress that accents the lighter flecks in her blue eyes while complimenting her golden hair. Plus, Octavia did her makeup, she knows she looks good. But Lexa's wearing a smart vest and dress pant combination, and it really should be a sin to fill out dress shirts and vests as well as she does. Lexa went simple with black and white, and they're oddly well-paired, as if planned.

"Well," she drawls. "Cats or dogs?"

"Oh, dogs hands down."

"Winter or summer?"

"Summer. Winter's always nice in small doses, but that's why I'm living in California."

"Marvel or DC?"

"Both have their own problems, but I find that Marvel treats its characters with a level of respect that isn't always found in DC - they're more relatable. Not to mention I prefer Black Widow over Batman anyway."

Clarke nods approvingly. "Okay, this is the hardest and most important question. Hogwarts house."

"Hmm," Lexa says, eyeing her for a split second, seemingly coming to a decision in the moment. "Gryffindor."

"Why?" Clarke asks, vaguely dumbfounded. 

"Because they're the good guys, duh." Lexa suppresses a smile at the visible flinch Clarke gives.

"Where's the waiter?" Clarke asks, only half-joking. "I need the check over here! We're done here." She cranes around and Lexa bursts into quiet laughter.

"I'm kidding, settle down. If I'm being serious, I'd say Ravenclaw, maybe even a Slytherin cusp. I'm guessing that you're a Slytherin, then?"

Clarke snaps her fingers and smiles. "Damn proud of it too."

 

They get along swimmingly, with a ease that doesn't often lend itself to Clarke's first dates. She asks Lexa what she wants to be in the future (a lawyer) and also answers accordingly when Lexa turns the question back on her (a doctor).

Lexa muses, "One hell of a power couple, huh?" Before stiffening and ducking her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sometimes I get ahead of myself and say things." Color rises into her tan cheeks, and Clarke admires this for a moment.

She smiles widely and waves her hand, blasé despite a particularly hard thud of her heart when Lexa hints at being a couple. "Don't be sorry, I know that I'm quite a catch." She preens mockingly and laughs. "A doctor with a body of a figure skater? Sign me up." When she's done laughing at her own joke (lame), she looks up to check what Lexa's doing.

Lexa's watching her with an indulgent smile and quiet contentment, but answers, "You are quite the catch," soft and serious.

Clarke's breath catches then, taken away by the quiet intensity shimmering underneath Lexa's simple words. She can almost feel the stars aligning, and the world shifting to accommodate this moment. Sitting in this moment, soaking it up, has never felt more right or more like  _home_. It's like her muscles tense up and relax at the same time, a sense of comfort permeating her entire system. She feels thoughts that aren't her own flit through her head -  _stay_ and  _please don't do this_ and  _i love you_ \- and they all melt together at the same time, perfect and messy and wrong and right. And it grabs ahold of her heartbeat, hijacks it and doesn't let go. Her blood crashes down in her ears like ocean waves in a stormy night. She can only answer, "You too," with the breathy quality of a runner starving for the next inhale.

Their eyes meet, and Lexa's wide smile dies down, settles into a flickering smile, where it's really more or less just the corners of her mouth tugging up. And yet, for some reason, this half-smile, anguish painted near the edges, fear settling in halfway through, feels more and more familiar - to the point where it sends a jolt through her system and prompts her to reach across the table, the spaces in between her fingers jarringly empty and almost aching for contact.

And perhaps, this something prompts Lexa to extend her hand and slip her fingers into Clarke's and keep them there.

And just like that, they fit.

Their waiter comes back with their food and a smile on his face when he sees their interlaced hands. "Is this an anniversary dinner?" He asks.

 

"I guess you can call it that," she answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey! now, don't let the lengthy, wordy intro confuse you - this is essentially a prompt based fic, with space for au's of any kind, really. (inspired by gaby dunn, intro by her, edits made to fit the story.)  
> And while I have a few ideas in mind, I'd really love to hear what y'all have to say, so leave me a comment here or drop by with a message at my tumblr: [nxneteens.tumblr.com](http://nxneteens.tumblr.com). Tell me what you want to see & don't be a stranger! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> also please tell me if my humor is a little too dark and i'll try and lighten it up


	2. verse two: loving can heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> verse two: falling in love on set.

_two._

 

Lexa loves being extra - wait, scratch that, she loves being _an_ extra. It's not much more than being paid to do nothing and sit around in the background, and it's just some extra cash on the side when she has days off. And sometimes if she's lucky, she gets to talk some of the actors or actresses in between shoots - so yeah, she likes being a movie extra. Some directors have specific instructions for extras, but a lot of the time it's really just something along the lines of _do whatever the fuck you want, just don't look into the camera, we're not on the office._ She's totally fine with it - a lot of the times she just brings a book to read and tries to tune out whatever scene is going on in front of her.

But sometimes the directors like to put extras together in the background and tell them to just have a random conversation, especially when the shoot is set in a bar. So when she gets on set and sees it's a bar, she sighs lightly to herself and prepares herself for a long day of meaningless conversation. She sweeps her hair over one shoulder and settles into her mark at a booth. Tapping through some of the notifications on her phone, she waits until her partner for the day shows up.

"Hey," someone says.

Lexa jolts up straight and looks across the booth to see a woman smiling and extending her hand. How she didn't notice her sliding into her seat in the first place is beyond her comprehension, but she shakes the woman's hand anyway.

"I'm Clarke. It's nice to meet you," the woman says, her voice throwing Lexa for a loop. It's husky and throaty in the best way, and totally does _not_ match the whole busty-blonde-Californian vibe she gives off, so forgive her for being confused.

"I'm Lexa - the pleasure is all mine. Where are you from?" She asks politely, tucking her phone away.

"Me? I actually live around LA, and being an extra is really easy, so I just take local gigs whenever I have the time. How about you?”

“Just about the same, really,” Lexa laughs lightly.

“I suppose that’s the story for everyone here,” Clarke shrugs.

Lexa opens her mouth to say something but the director cuts in at the moment.

“Alright, extras, just continue on with whatever conversation naturally flows, don’t look into the camera, and don’t stare at the actors unnecessarily. Don’t get too worked up and yell either, we’ve had that problem before. Alright, that’s all.”

Clarke chuckles and looks away awkwardly. “Funny story, um, he may or may not be referencing me when he was talking about getting worked up.”

“No way,” Lexa gapes.

“Yes way. I got paired up with my ex-boyfriend - and, real piece of work, that guy. Anyway, he spent the whole time begging me for a second chance after cheating on me, or rather, cheating on someone with me. Long story.” Clarke shakes her head, blond tresses swaying around her shoulders. “Anyway, I deal with it for most of the day, and then at the end I just couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed that we were just over, and ended making a bigger scene than I had originally intended to.”

Lexa exhales heavily in disbelief. “No way. Did it make the cut?”

“No, of course not. But if you look closely at 2x03, you can see me rejecting him in the background. Some people thought it was an easter egg, because you can see us together at other intervals in other episodes too.”

She can’t help the chuckle that escapes her. “Well, you are quite the character, Clarke.”

Clarke laughs, head tipping back, and Lexa can only watch, slightly transfixed. “Well, do you have any funny stories about being an extra?”

Lexa shakes her head. “I usually bring a book and just sit in the cafe scenes.”

Clarke snorts. “No good stories at all? You’ve never done anything just so you could see if it would show up in the background because the editors missed it?”

“No, I haven’t, but the specificity of that question makes me think that you have done something like that.”

Clarke grins devilishly, blue eyes glinting mischievously. (Lexa pretends her breath doesn’t catch in her throat.) “Settle on down, Lex, you’re in for a ride.”

As it turns out, Lexa misses most of the story and is distracted by the way Clarke seems to need to move her hands animatedly while she’s talking, and how her eyes have lit up while she’s explaining what happened, or rather, what she did. (It had nothing to do with the way Clarke had called her ‘Lex’ so naturally.) Call her a sap, but Lexa loves passion. She loves anything that anyone else loves. She loves the way people light up when a topic they’re passionate about makes its way into the conversation, she loves the way that they can’t seem to get enough of it, loves the way they try to cram as many words into one breath as possible. She’s too busy admiring Clarke to catch the story, which: what a shame, it seemed like quite the story.

“And yeah, that’s the story of how I managed to tell the story of a girl who hatches a egg through the span of 10 different episodes.” Clarke finishes, chuckling at herself.

Lexa nods and laughs accordingly. “Quite the feat, Clarke, that is quite the feat.”

“So you’ve done nothing of the sort as an extra?” Clarke inquires, leaning in and resting her elbows on the table.

“No, I really usually just try to act as normally as possible, you know, what they _pay_ us for,” she teases, finding herself leaning in as well.

“What a square,” Clarke retorts.

“What did you just call me?” Lexa asks, bringing her hand up to her chest daintily, mock-offended.

“You know. Square? Goody two shoes?” Clarke coos.

She scoffs at Clarke. "Okay, so what if I abide by some set rules? That doesn't automatically mean that I'm a square."

“Actually, no, that is actually  _literally_ the definition of being a square.” Clarke says, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m not a square, Clarke.”

“Aw, sure you aren’t, babe.” She says patronizingly, dropping her hand to cover Lexa’s on the table.

And okay, so maybe she’s a little stunned by just how forward Clarke is - sue her, they've only been talking for 2 hours and Clarke is laying it on thick. (She refuses to admit to the blood that jumped into her cheeks at Clarke's use of endearment and thanks all the deities she knows for her tan complexion.)

“Too much?” Clarke asks smugly.

“Not at all, _sweetie_ ,” she shoots back, refusing to back down. And so what if she never does anything like this with strangers? Clarke is a special case.

“So she does have some spine after all,” Clarke says, giving her an approving look. There's a brief pause in the conversation, and Clarke quickly glances over at where the actors are standing, cupping her head and letting it loll in her hands. "Must be nice to be paid to look pretty and say words to a camera," she sighs.

"That's what you're being paid to do right now," Lexa replies offhandedly.

Clarke hums.

"Sorry," she replies automatically.

"What're you sorry for?"

"I don't know, it didn't seem like my last statement garnered an enthusiastic response, so I guess I was apologizing for that."

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for?" Clarke asks, amused. Her chin is resting in the palm of her hand and she looks at Lexa with half a smile painted on her face, shrugging a single shoulder to emphasize her question.

She only shrugs half-heartedly in response.

Clarke narrows her eyes with a small smile still playing on her lips, scrutinizing Lexa, and her shrewd blue eyes focus in on her with a singular type of intensity, as if she's trying to dissect and examine her. Lexa straightens out instinctively, unable to break eye contact and unable to find a single corner to tuck herself into. It's broken by Clarke blinking and crossing her legs, feet bumping clumsily against Lexa's. "Do you want to get lunch with me?" She asks abruptly. "In a non-platonic fashion," she clarifies.

"Um," is her intelligent response.

Clarke raises her eyebrows in a distinctly unimpressed fashion. "Do you want to go on a lunch date with me? I usually do dinner, but I figure we're going to be breaking for lunch soon, so why wait?"

"Yes," she answers a little too quickly. "I guess," she adds on in an attempt to save face.

"You guess? Wait, are you straight?"

"No!"

"Okay, I assumed as much when I saw the pocketed t-shirt. But is that a yes or just an I guess?"

"Yes," Lexa breathes.

The answering smile is slow, and it's, no joke, breathtaking. It's all soft curves and no teeth, and just barely allows Lexa her first insight into something so genuinely, well,  _Clarke,_  she would assume,behind all the flirtation and big talk. And the rush of endorphins associated with it is heady and  _addictive_ , and has Lexa almost begging for another hint, her next hit, the next reveal. It's all together frightening and exhilarating, and not at all familiar for a small town girl like herself.

The only relationship of her's that is worth mentioning is the year she spent with Costia - which was small touches and sneaking glances, slowly falling in love, comparable to lazy afternoons spent adrift in a lake on a warm summer's day. It's the settling of the sun's warmth upon her skin as she bobs gently in her boat, gradual and expected. It's light summer rain, temperate and gentle, and it ended just as gently. Ending that particular relationship was getting out of the boat when the sun sank below the mountains, watching the rain clouds be blown away and off to other places, which was to say, it was disappointing and completely expected, yet oddly freeing - because the sun setting marked time for the stars to rise, and the rain clouds leaving left room for a clear sky. While she was still in the relationship, she never wanted it to end, and yet, once it was over, she could enjoy the next thing to come. It was nice, but it was not permanent.

Starting  _this_ , whatever this was, with Clarke is the exact opposite of anything she'd ever experienced. She can tell already: it's going to be going down waterfalls, falling so fast that her stomach has yet to catch up with her. It's going to be like wandering into the ocean and waiting for the biggest wave to hit, thrilling and never-ending as the waves forever chase the moon and kiss the shores. But she will emerge bone-tired, sea-soaked, with salt on her tongue and the ocean breeze stuck in her hair - unless she lets herself drown. This  _is_  permanent.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, like ocean water has already started soaking into her lungs. She sucks in a breath, and turns her gaze skyward, all the time biting down on her bottom lip, wholly unaware of the way Clarke's eyes follow her every move and trace every line of her face hungrily, the way a beast eyes their next meal.

Lexa returns her gaze to Clarke, and is both surprised and unsurprised that Clarke is already staring at her. "I don't even know your last name," she breathes out jokingly, although her tone, three times too soft and hesitant, wavers too much to be taken as a joke.

Clarke laughs anyway, and Lexa looks at her with a thinly veiled type of desperation, with prayers in her eyes, begging for scraps, any sort of hint that Clarke felt just as affected as she did, her lips parted in an silent invocation.

"Wait, wait, wait. Cut!"

Lexa startles and swings around to face the director.

"Mm, 'scuse me, table two, hey, yeah, would you mind not looking so  _hopelessly_ _in love?_ It's kind of distracting. Thanks, that would be great." He turns away from them.

Lexa looks over at the two sitting at her table, bewildered. Clarke snickers, but color is slowly creeping into her cheeks.

The director makes his way onto the set, and puts his hands on one of the actor's shoulders. "Roan, my boy, my darling, what is going on in that lovely head of yours? You're supposed to be _falling in love_ with _her_ right now, and all I'm getting is the extras over there falling in love - and, not to mention, they are being over _ten times_ more convincing than you are."

Roan shrugs and rubs a hand down his face. Make-up and hair stylists scurry around set for a couple minutes.

"Alright, alright, please, from the top. Table two, please try and refrain from stealing the show." The director sighs, stalks off and takes a seat, gesturing for them to continue.

"Think that'll make the cut?" Clarke grins at her.

"Maybe," Lexa says, heart still pounding in her chest, seemingly intent on trying to match the pace of a hummingbird's heart.

"Well, I'm sure we looked great. I'll be disappointed if it doesn't make it."

She smiles in response, hand fluttering over her heart, trying to get it to slow its insistent rhythm. She vaguely hears the director murmur in the background,  _maybe we should just get table two their own show, Roan and Echo can't even hold a candle to them right now._ She sees chuckles spread like wildfire through the crew. She dips her head down in embarrassment.

"Hey," Clarke says warmly, reaching across the table to rest her hand on top of Lexa's for the second time today, and smiling when Lexa looks up questioningly. Clarke leans over to press a quick kiss to her cheek, but draws away just quickly, leaving Lexa to reach up and cover her cheek with one hand and gently stroke the spot. Lips twitching into a smile, she meets Clarke's beam and hastily turns away shyly, heat rising up into her cheeks.

The director groans. "Okay, cut, cut, cut! Roan, Echo, take five. Table two, what did I say just minutes ago?" He grumbles inaudibly to the crew around him, and shakes his head.

"Oops," Clarke says, grin never faltering. "Sorry," she apologizes loudly, despite not looking very sorry at all.

Lexa masks a chuckle behind a cough, and clears her throat when their gazes focus on her.

"For what it's worth, I think you guys are a really adorable couple," remarks the extra sitting behind their booth.

"Oh, we're n-" Lexa begins.

"Thank you," Clarke cuts in, lazy grin curling smugly at the edges. She holds Lexa's hand, slots her fingers right in between Lexa's and squeezes firmly. "We really appreciate it, don't we,  _babe?_ " Clarke nudges at her foot under the table.

"Yeah," she says, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"So how long have you guys been together?"

Clarke grins wickedly. "Give or take a couple of hours. We're still in the honeymoon phase."

The extra behind them laughs, before asking incredulously, "Are you serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," Clarke says solemnly, eyes going wide. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, um, not at all," the woman replies. "I'm just surprised. You guys look _really_ in love is all."

"That makes the two of us," Clarke adds softly, momentarily looking back at Lexa.

"Alright, alright, cut it out, table two, we're going again."

The woman sitting near them shoots them one more bemused smile and turns back around.

"So for a second date, do you want to watch the live airing of this episode?" Clarke asks, rubbing her hands together. (Lexa doesn't remark on how empty her hand suddenly feels, and just laughs and nods instead.)

* * *

They do end up watching the episode together, but it's falls on more of a third/fourth date instead of the second, like they had originally planned, with glasses of wine sitting in front of them on Clarke's coffee table. She has one arm wrapped around Clarke, and said girl is tucked right into her side. They chat most of the episode and really only tune in when the pub scene starts. 

"Lex, oh my god, it's us." Clarke laughs. "Oh man, you totally look like a lost puppy."

She nudges at Clarke's shoulder, exasperated.

"Aw, don't worry, I think it's super cute."

"I'm glad," Lexa replies sarcastically.

 

 **Henry Shumway** @directorshumway  
Fun fact: the extras at the booth are unscripted. Yes, they're just that in love. #TableTwo #GaveMeSoMuchGrief

6:48 pm - 3 Mar 2016 - Reply - Retweet - Favorite

 

"Lexa, look at this. The director just tweeted about us." 

"He doesn't seem too fond of us." 

Clarke shrugs.

 

 **SPACE SLUT** @chloes  
fun fact: lesbians make everything better RT **@directorshumway** "Fun fact: the extras at the booth are unscripted. Yes, they're just that in love."

6:50 pm - 3 Mar 2016 - Reply - Retweet - Favorite

 

"I'm vaguely proud," Clarke muses. "This may be a bigger success than hatching an egg ever was." She looks like the cat who got the cream and the canary and the whole damn flock of birds too, so Lexa leans over and kisses the cocky smile off her face. (She's proud too, but for a different reason, she thinks as she watches Clarke scroll through her twitter and laugh.) "Aw, look, they caught the kiss! Your face is _so_  priceless afterwards," Clarke cheers.

(Later, tumblr makes a whole _thing_  of the table two lesbians - but that's to be expected. They're invited back when the show gets renewed for a new season.)

Lexa personally couldn't care less about the tweets, but the way they make Clarke smile is more than enough to sell her on them.

"Promise me we'll go back and reprise our roles," Clarke begs.

"Sure," Lexa chuckles. She smiles indulgently at Clarke's excitement, and leans in to seal it with a kiss. Or two. Or three. (She loses count, later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!  
> So while I don't have a lot of space for fluff in my other fic (follow the music), I figured I could shove a lot of stuff into here because I can do whatever I like, especially if it's not sleeping at all, apparently.  
> Again, I have a few ideas that I have lined up, but I'd really love to hear what y'all want to read, so make sure to leave me a comment here or drop by with a message at my tumblr: [nxneteens.tumblr.com](http://nxneteens.tumblr.com).   
> This chapter's inspiration is this [tumblr prompt](http://twinkwolf.tumblr.com/post/115992630448/au-idea-two-extras-have-to-sit-across-from-each%0A) I found lying around. Leave me a comment, shoot a couple asks, message me on tumblr :) Thanks for reading x


	3. three: nicotine from a silver screen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> verse three: youtuber au

**CHANNEL INTRO PROBABLY  
** 11,721,741 views • 1 year ago

\- Audioly... it’s like ravioli, only you put it in your ear."

In the background, a faint voice calls out, "Raven, what the  _fuck_ are you on."

 

Peppy intro music plays as the screen fades into a small graphic.

"Hey YouTube! I'm Clarke-"

"I'm Raven-"

"And I'm Octavia-"

"And we're the - ??? um."

"Fine sisters," Raven says.

"Fine brothers is already a thing," Clarke replies.

"Fine, um... The bi tri. Your new holy trinity."

"That's... surprisingly not bad," Octavia agrees.

"Bar Octavia not being bi," Clarke snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I can be whatever I want to be," Octavia says defensively. "And if I want to be bi, I'll be bi."

"Let the poor girl be, Griffin."

Clarke rolls her eyes. Octavia beams and leans to peck Raven on the cheek, and Raven turns at the last second, catching it on the edge of her lips and causing Octavia to go into a new round of shrieking hysterics. Raven looks smugly at Octavia while Clarke shakes her head and looks into the camera.

"Well, at least now we're guaranteed at least 100k views because we have girl on girl action." She says drily.

* * *

    
 @THE BI TRI  
**Subscribe:** 10,297,052  
we make videos kind of, we're better at kissing girls  
"i'm starting to feel like a second wheel around here" -octavia, probably

* * *

"Hey YouTube! I'm Clarke-"

"I'm Raven-"

"And I'm Octavia!"

"And we're the Bi Tri: we give you shitty advice and laugh about it, but mainly we just air out our own problems here."

"Honestly, we don't even know why we're popular on YouTube. We suck. Big time." Raven observes. "Like I'm talking black-hole sucking, not whatever Clarke labels her pitiful blowjobs as." She extends her hand for a high-five while continuing to smile at the camera. Octavia chokes on her laughter and slaps Raven's hand half-heartedly.

Clarke glowers. " _Excuse_ _me?_ I've never gotten any complaints. I can even give you reference letters from my exes. That's how good I was."

"Oh yeah? From who? You've only dated girls for the past, like, 700 years."

Octavia chortles. "She can give you a reference from one of _your_ boyfriends, Raven."

Raven gapes. 

Clarke looks straight into the camera disbelievingly.

Octavia continues to laugh at her own joke.

"Anyway..." Raven says abruptly, although not unkindly. "Moving on, today we're doing the, um, jelly bean and booze challenge or the other."

"It's the Bean-Boozled challenge, babe." Octavia points out errantly, more focused on scrolling through her twitter feed.

"Yeah, I know. I just wanted to see if I could get away with just drinking and eating jelly beans."

"It's only 2 in the afternoon," Clarke interjects.

"Don't judge my lifestyle."

 

They all pop a suspicious looking orange and red jelly bean into their mouth at the same time. Clarke reacts immediately and spits it into a paper cup sitting in front of her.

"Vomit, that's vomit." She says, half laughing, half coughing. "Or wait," she says, licking her lips and smacking them a couple times, threatening to fall into a fit of laughter. "Maybe that was peach." She reaches over and tips the cup up to her lips.

Octavia cheers over in her corner, "peach peach peach peach."

Raven chews with an expression of acute pain on her face.

Clarke laughs so hard she falls over onto Octavia's lap. "It's peach," she confirms through her laughter.

Raven swallows hers and gargles with beer, grimacing the whole time.

* * *

 "Hey YouTube! I'm Clarke-" Raven starts.

"I'm Raven," says Octavia.

"And I'm Octavia." Clarke finishes gleefully.

"And we're-"

"- wrong, just so _fucking_ -totally wrong."

They fall into hysterics and two jump cuts later, Clarke is wiping tears from her eyes, Raven's on the floor and Octavia's nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 Lexa finishes watching their most recent video (the newlywed challenge) and can't help but smile at the winning pair's (Clarke and Octavia) victory dancing, and embarrassedly covers her smile with a cough and a small bite to her fist, despite the fact that there's no one around to witness her smiling at a computer screen dumbly.

"Take that, bitches!" Octavia screams.

With her hands clasped tightly in Octavia's, Clarke sways side to side dreamily, humming "we are the champions" to herself.

Wick and Raven sit on the couch, body language hilariously similar, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Griffin, I'd crush your ass if I was paired with Octavia," Raven grumps.

"Yes, but," Clarke says, eyes rolling in mock-exasperation. "Wick's  _your boyfriend_."

"Not boyfriend," she shoots back.

"Ah yes, sorry, my bad, Wick is definitely Not your Boyfriend."

"Just you wait. Rematch when you get married or something."

Clarke puts her hands up, surrendering. 

"On that note, thanks for watching, have a nice day-"

Clarke signals vigorously at Octavia and fixes her with a stare.

And almost seamlessly, Octavia turns back to the camera and says,"And make sure to catch us at VidCon! We have a lot planned and we'll be vlogging the whole experience. So make sure to say hi to us if you see us, we love meeting you guys! Alright you guys, that's all, so, take a deep breath, stay alive, and we'll meet again next time!" Raven and Clarke blow kisses to the camera and Wick waves awkwardly. She mimes an explosion and the screen cuts out to black while information about Vidcon scrolls down the screen, accompanied by an occasional video byte from (what Lexa assumes) the footage that didn't quite make the cut. She subscribes to their channel (and yeah, maybe it takes a couple more seconds of staring at the smiling blonde to seal the deal, but, really, that's nobody's business).

Lexa sighs to herself and turns to her camera, mentally preparing herself to start filming.

Her next breath escapes her in a huff and she rubs her hands up and down her face. Grabbing her phone, she rides out the last of her video induced endorphins and opens up her twitter app quickly before dropping it off to the side and beginning her new let's play video.

**@lexawoods is now following @clarkegriff.**

"Hey there guys, I know I promised a new play-through on twitter, so today we're playing Until Dawn, which I have _heard_ is really good. I'm really excited so let's get right into it."

She sets things up and ignores her phone when the screen lights up.

**@clarkegriff is following you back!**

"So right off the bat, I know that I'm saving Sam no matter what because Hayden Panettiere is hot and I'm weak and gay." She jokes to the camera as she navigates through the game.

 

 **NOT CLARKE GRIFFIN**  @clarkegriff  
half my life is spent thirst following

6:45 pm - Reply - Retweet - Favorite

  

"Is it bad that I kind of only like the girls so far? The guys are just so...  _eh?_  I promise that this a purely objective view, and not like gay goggles or something."

 

 **SPACE SLUT** @chloesnowdes  
SCREAMINF  **@clarkegriff** jsut thirst follwoed  **@lexawoods**

6:47 pm - Reply - Retweet - Favorite

 

"... And I'm going to stop there for now - that was Until Dawn, guys. It's looking like it's going to be really good, so I really sincerely hope that you guys tune in for the rest of the game, because I can tell you already that it's going to be one hell of a ride. Leave me a comment or drop a like, I'll catch you guys around later. Keep fighting the good fight, until next time!"

She waves at the camera and shuts it off, stretching and groaning when her back cracks in protest. Sighing and cleaning up her space, she delegates the editing to tomorrow and shifts her stuff until she's satisfied with how her area looks. 

 

 **Lexa Woods** @lexawoods  
**@clarkegriff** hope to see you and octavia and raven at VidCon!

9:47 pm - Reply - Retweet - Favorite

* * *

"Clarke, your internet girlfriend just tweeted at you!"

Clarke groans. "Raven, we literally just started following each other. I don't even know anything about her!"

"Well," Raven responds, never looking up from her phone. "Now we know that she's a youtuber, and even more specifically, she does playthroughs and occasionally vlogs on the side."

Clarke looks over, reaches out and flaps her hand up and down insistently until Raven throws her phone over. Scrolling through Lexa's channel, she moves some of the videos onto a watch later playlist, flagging down most of the vlogs and the occasional playthrough.

"Oh, I know that look, Griffin, you've got it bad, don't you?" 

"What are you even saying," she scoffs. "She tweeted at me once, it's hardly Romeo and Juliet here."

"And maybe if it were anyone else, I'd accept that, but -"

"- but what?"

"But she's  _so_ your type!"

Clarke sputters indignantly, and remains (mostly) unruffled despite her heart stuttering on a beat. "What do you mean?"

"Come on now," Raven says, exasperated. "Dark hair, killer eyes, tight bod, and from the looks of it, taller than you. Not to mention: well dressed and passionate."

"These are baseless accusations!"

Raven gives her a withering stare. "Finn, Anya, Bellamy, Niylah... Need I go on?"

"Okay, Bellamy was your hook-up, not mine."

Octavia manages to stalk into the kitchen at that precise moment, and pulls a face at the mention of her brother. She plugs her fingers into her ears and walks back out, retreating into her room. "Not even going to  _ask_ what this is about." She yells through the door.

"Still not my hook-up."

"Yeah, but are you really going to say that if he wasn't O's brother you wouldn't jump his bones?"

"No one in this house is allowed to jump Bellamy's bones,  _ever_." Octavia screams from her room.

"Not going to have this conversation," Clarke responds.

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," Raven mutters to herself. "Whatever you say, princess, but we're going to collab with her whether you like it or not."

Clarke rolls her eyes and picks herself up off the couch to go into her room. So, yeah, Lexa was cute, but that was irrelevant, she tells herself as she opens up her computer to Lexa's channel. Subscribing quickly, she goes through the vlogs posted and gets a feel for Lexa's personality. The videos range from being a discussion on serious topics like LGBT rights and how she stands on gun laws to her candle haul and videos from day trips spent with her friends. 

And when she finishes watching a vast majority of the videos and vlogs uploaded on Lexa's channel, Clarke can only admit that Raven was completely and utterly right. She's a sucker for the whole 'rebel with a cause' no matter what said cause was. With Anya, it was all about saving the environment, and she recalls the sounds of chains rattling against gates and the hoarse yelling at street corners. (Clarke staunchly represses the memories of dying her hair green in support.) With Finn, it was political rallies and marching protests, thundering feet and flashing eyes. And she knows this: she has a thing for hurricanes, people who sweep you up in a rush, twirl you around and around until you lose who you are but always end up dumping you in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly everything is all  _we're not in Kansas anymore._ She knows how easily she loses herself in other people, which means that one Lexa Woods is a recipe for disaster.

No good can come of getting involved with Lexa Woods.

(By the time she realizes this, it's far too late. _Things_ have already been set in motion.)

 

 _And yet_ , that's how she finds herself down on one knee, with the sun setting behind her. She knows the dying sunlight sets her golden hair alight, encasing her in an almost firey halo of orange-pink sunlight. Palm trees sway behind her and blades of grass tickle her knees. She swallows once, twice, three times to try and rid herself of the feeling of her heart in her throat, and she clears her throat once more,  _just in case._

Her heart hammers away in her chest, so fast she can just barely taste copper and hear blood pound and crash through her ears. She wets her lips and gives a small smile when she hears a small gasp.

"Alexandria Montgomery Woods, will you marry me?"

She looks up at Lexa, looks up at how a pretty pink stains her cheeks and how she bites her lip in an attempt to stifle a smile and how her wild brown hair curls around her and-

"Yes, I will," Lexa answers breathlessly.

* * *

"I'm Clarke!"

"I'm Raven-"

"- And I'm Octavia! And we're the bi tri!"

"Happy VidCon!" Raven says. "And also happy engagement!" She tacks on, gesturing to where Clarke and Lexa sit on the couch. "So now that  _someone's_ gone and gotten themselves engaged, I think it's high time we get that rematch. And by rematch, I mean the happy couple versus Clarke and her brand spanking new fianceé! The rules are as follows: each couple will answer the question that's chosen by the other couple and proceed to answer at the same time. If you answer correctly, you get a point. First couple to five points win.

"Alright, let's start with you two," Raven continues. "Octavia chose the question: without looking at each other, say your significant other's eye color. What the hell, O? That's way too easy.. We're in this to win this, remember?" She taps her head with her index finger pointedly.

Octavia slaps at her arm. "Three, two, one-"

"Green-grey," Clarke answers.

"Blue," Lexa says at the same time.

(They look at each other and share a smile. No one says anything about it in the ensuing silence.)

"Anyway," Raven says, clearing her throat. "Lexarke... Clarkexa? Whatever, Clarke and Lexa get one point, happy couple Roctavia-"

"Wait, why does your name get to be first?"

"Because that's life, and because clearly I am the more attractive one."

"I want my name first."

"Does it matter-"

"- Yes!"

"Fine, happy couple Octaven have zero points."

Lexa chuckles and Clarke bumps her with her shoulder, smiling. She clears her throat and runs her hand through her unruly brown locks. "Alright, so Clarke and I chose the question: Who wears the pants in the relationship?"

"Three, two, one," Clarke counts down smugly, shoulder still bumping with Lexa's.

"I do," they chorus together before turning to fix the other with a glare.

Raven huffs. "Okay. Fine. No points for Octaven. Next question: what size shoe does Clarke wear? No looking at her feet! Octavia, count them down."

Octavia lazily gestures with her hand.

Clarke shrugs.

"Seven," Lexa answers unsurely.

"Seven," Clarke confirms bemusedly.

Raven gapes.

"Lucky guess?" Lexa proposes, hands meekly up in the air, though a sly smile winds its way up around her lips.

Clarke beams and throws an arm around Lexa, her heart beating traitorously faster. "Aw,  _babe_." She coos.

"Are you fucking kiddin- No, never mind.  _Ugh_ , okay. Hashtag Cla-exa 2, Octaven 0."

Hilariously, the videos ends with Clarke pressing a quick kiss to Lexa's cheek, and with hashtag Clexa pulling a 5-0 win over hashtag Octaven.

Raven almost cries.

Octavia bustles around the hotel room and cleans up their equipment.

"So, Lexa, thank you for going along with this incredibly harebrained plan," Clarke starts off as Raven mopes in a corner.

"It's entirely my pleasure," Lexa answers, one hand methodically twisting her engagement ring off. She hands it back to Clarke. "I've always admired your channel, and it's by no means a hard day at work when I can film with a trio as humorous as you three." She smiles winningly.

Raven scowls back.

"This moment needs to be immortalized," Clarke muses. She pulls her phone out and snaps a quick picture. "Cute," she says, tapping away on her phone.

Lexa smiles indulgently. Silence swells between them.

"Thank you, truly." Clarke says softly, after a beat.

There is no response from Lexa, and that in and of itself is the only fitting response.

* * *

**NOT CLARKE GRIFFIN** @clarkegriff  
**@lexawoods** best wife ever! **twitpic.com/123-45**

3:47 pm - Reply - Retweet - Favorite 

 

 **Lexa Woods** @lexawoods  
:) RT  **@clarkegriff**  " **@lexawoods**  best wife ever!  **twitpic.com/123-45** "

3:51 pm - Reply - Retweet - Favorite 

* * *

The internet loses their mind over what Raven coins as Clexa. Lexa's subscriber count jumps up rapidly, as does @the bi tri's.

In a stunning parallel, Lexa finds herself in a similar state over Clarke. They've hardly gone a day without tweeting at the other or texting each other, and it's lame and elementary and  _god,_ she is just so  _lost_ for this girl. It's been a week since their fake engagement and subsequent collaboration, but Lexa can't get the feeling of Clarke's lips pressing into her cheek and the weight of Clarke's arm slung over her shoulder out of her head.

She thinks back to seeing Clarke on one knee (with Raven filming over at the side, of course) and how the sunset crowned her golden hair perfectly, and how the orange-pink, dying rays of light kissed her skin just right, and how her tongue swept over pink lips and how blue eyes were seared into the back of her eyelids for days after that. 

Her ring finger feels curiously empty, so she cracks her knuckles and ignores the feeling.

She watches Clarke's shared channel hungrily, religiously - but only really ever comes away with a deeper understanding of Clarke instead of gaining any sort of insight of her roommates.

It's only been around a week, but it feels like so much more, like universes, like lifetimes.

Lexa texts Clarke.

 

"I miss you," Raven reads aloud, looking over Clarke's shoulder. "Can you say -"

"Whipped!" Octavia calls out, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"Stop reading my texts over my shoulder, Raven." Clarke says crossly, firing back a response.

 

"Miss you more," Lexa reads, a dumb smile spreading over her lips as she types out her reply.

 

"Miss you the most," Octavia reads, peeking at the text when Clarke turns her back to Raven.

Raven beams and high fives her.

Clarke groans and stomps off to her room.

 

"You're such a nerd."

Lexa smiles and leaves it at that to go to sleep.

* * *

**clexa™ is real** @servicetoplexa  
so theyr;e basically married right **#clexa**  

4:51 am - Reply - Retweet - Favorite 

 

 **candle hoe lexa** @neighborhoodclexa  
the sexual tension is unbearable wtf RT  **@servicetoplexa** "so theyr;e basically married right  **#clexa** "

5:01 am - Reply - Retweet - Favorite 

* * *

Tumblr collectively loses their minds when they start finding little clues embedded in Clarke's individual vlogs (as well as the trio's videos) that hint at Lexa's presence. When they effectively prove that Lexa's jacket is slung over the couch in the trio's newest video, they implode.

And yet despite speculation and tumblr's wishes, nothing happens until 6 months later when the trio decide to do a livestream, drunk.

"Welcome to winestream," Raven slurs, arm slung around Clarke's shoulders and leaning heavily into Octavia. "No, Clexa is not real," she answers, squinting at the screen.

"Yet," Octavia amends, lifting her glass.

"Clexa's not real, yet," Raven agrees.

Clarke giggles uncharacteristically.

Lexa smiles from behind the camera, only focused on Clarke's swaying form.

Raven rolls her eyes. "Just stop hiding and come out, everyone knows you're here, Lex."

Clarke rubs at her face, but pats the seat next to her anyway.

Lexa sheepishly makes her way to the couch.

Clarke immediately leans her head on Lexa's shoulder.

"Ask more questions, guys," she says sleepily.

"@clarkegriffinownsmyass asks how we met," Octavia reads from her phone.

"Funny story," Clarke replies, perking up. "And it all starts with one ex-boyfriend named Finn."

 

"I hate you," Raven groans, running her hand down her face and bodily clinging to Octavia.

"You love me," Clarke corrects.

"No, I'm sure that I hate you."

"That hurts me," Clarke says from her perch on Lexa's lap. "Octavia loves me though!"

"Don't drag me into this," she grunts, trying to balance her own weight with the addition of Raven's.

Clarke pouts, but swings her arms around Lexa's neck. "At least you love me, right?"

And time slows for Lexa. She can feel her heart fighting to pound right out of her chest. The words are at the tip of her tongue, buzzing at her lips and burning at her throat. She's on the cliff's edge, just about to drop headfirst into unchartered territory, and her fingers are slipping from the precipice. The wine has made her pliant and warm, and she blinks owlishly and _tastes_ the words, honeyed and sharp with truth, as they fall from her mouth. "I've loved you before I ever even met you," she replies quietly.

Three pairs of eyes swing to meet hers, but she never strays from Clarke's ocean-blue eyes, dark and light and hard and soft all at the same time, and she worries that it's too much too soon.

She closes her eyes and tries to stop the spinning and the colors from swimming around, but only ends up missing how Clarke's eyes drop to her lips.

Their first kiss is met with shrieking and the phrase, "Keep it PG-13!"

Lexa remembers that phrase fondly for the rest of her life.

* * *

This is a story about how Clarke Griffin falls in love.

Alternatively, this is a story about how Clarke Griffin finds herself down on one knee twice for the same girl.

* * *

 

@WatchUsLiveIGuess  
**Subscribe:**  6,240,343  
i loved you before i ever even met you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i actually hate the song that the chapter title comes from, but i thought it was fitting.  
> i also ripped the numbers straight from zoella's channel whoops, and the bi tri™ comes from a tumblr post about soc media and i really liked it so here's [the original](http://accurate-ish.tumblr.com/post/138773938778/brot4-twitter). photo for the channel is just a photo i found online by searching "marie avgeropoulos eliza taylor lindsey morgan" and screenshotting it to make it more icon-y. thank you person who made this & therefore made my life easier.  
> and by now, y'all know the drill: comment here or talk to me at [nxneteens.tumblr.com](http://nxneteens.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading x


	4. four: leave you in the morning but find you in the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> verse four: i could love you forever

Lexa up in 12B is in a happy relationship. Clarke knows this because she can  _hear_ everything. And maybe if they weren't so cute together, it would have been a shame - a shame because Lexa's smile makes her stomach flutter _just_ so, and her eyes are the perfect blend of wintery green and a warm grey, and pale and sharp, and Clarke physically  _aches_ to capture their color on paper.

But she is just _that_ cute with her girlfriend (Anacostia, Clarke remembers. Nice girl, she thinks) and so her sketchbook remains void of any shades of green and the smiles she receives from Lexa are usually from a distance, across the hall or a second before the elevator shuts and rattles away. But sometimes she indulges herself. Closes her eyes, and listens to the faint whistle of a tea kettle and soft music as it floats through Lexa's open window and into her living room. Pretends the soft steps, scrapes, and twirls are from her dancing with Lexa, pretends that the Sunday morning sleepy laughter is for her to wake up to.

And sometimes she hears the bed frame drag across the floor rhythmically, insistent yet tender, everything like its owner's voice. 

It's not hers to enjoy, but it's so easy to close her eyes and just  _imagine_.

It's not always smooth sailing - sometimes Clarke hears doors slamming and raised voices (always Anacostia's) and muted anger (always Lexa) but it's always resolved within hours. Sooner or later, she'll hear the door frame creak open, hear the scrape, scrape, scrape of Anacostia's shoes as she scuffs the floor with her feet and apologizes, and the shuffle, shuffle, stop of Lexa walking closer, and then the telltale laughter wafting through her window. And that night she has to remember to close the window, or else she'll hear  _lexa lexa lexa_ , and feel as if, oddly enough, it should be  _her_ saying that.

When Finn makes his way into her life, she keeps her window closed and ignores the scrape, scrape, tap above her, regards it as white noise. While she's with Finn, it's easy to forget Lexa up in 12B with her cute, dimpled girlfriend and disgustingly domestic life. For a while, she doesn't feel so hollowly empty. She answers their dancing shuffles with taps and twirls of her own, muffles their laughter with Finn's chuckle and her own full-bodied laugh, and drowns out  _lexalexalexa_ with Finn, oh Finn. It's easy. She just has to keep her window closed.

 

But it's California, so the sun's always shining, and the weather's always perfect, but really,  _god_ , does it get hot sometimes. So she cracks her window open and breathes in a lungful of the summer-heavy, late afternoon breeze. And suddenly, soft music wafts in and envelopes her, inviting and alarmingly familiar, and it's dangerously easy to slip back into it, eerily reminiscent of coming home. Either way, she doesn't think twice about leaving the window open as she bustles about her apartment, cleaning and humming along. And somehow, it fills up the corners of her home more than Finn's soft chuckle ever could.

She fixes up some iced tea and pours it into a tall glass, watches as dewy condensation collects around the cup and winks in the afternoon sun. It's a good afternoon, and she tentatively sketches the edges of a smile moments before it's obscured by stainless steel elevator doors. She flips to a random blank page when she hears a knock at the door.

"Did you forget your keys again, babe? I swear you'd forget your own head if it wasn't screwed on right-" She laughs, swinging her way to the door and opening it freely, ready to fall into waiting arms and press a kiss into a 5 o'clock shadow. Instead, she's greeted by a brunette wearing a red leather jacket and a frown. "- Oh, um. Can I help you?" She asks, awkwardly leaning against the door jamb, unsure of who this angry (yet oddly angelic) brunette is.

"Yeah, actually, you can," comes the clipped answer. She crosses tan, defined forearms across her chest and juts her chin out. "You can stop fucking my boyfriend for one."

Clarke staggers back a little, hands coming up to cover her mouth. Her stomach bottoms out, and it feels like her entire center of gravity has changed. She feels loose, boneless, and a little bit dazed. She tries to come up with a witty response or to deflect with some humor, but shock has clamped a greedy hand around her throat, and is _squeezing_ and  _squeezing_ , and she damn near chokes on her own disbelief. It's despair like she's never known before. She's looked despair in the eye many a time, in the form of her father's tragic death and the senseless murder of her best friend - but this, this is new. This is rocks slowly being lifted and settled on her chest, blindingly white hot pain lining her lungs, crushing her under their weight. This is feeling a winter chill settle into your bones in the worst way, feeling it sneak through your layers and soak like it'll never come out. This is endless doubt and fear and  _what did I do wrong, where did I go wrong._ She averts her gaze and turns away, shaking her head, looking at her feet like she's unsure if the ground beneath them will continue to hold her up. "I-" She starts.

"You didn't know," the girl says, voice gone soft, and an angry sort of sadness in her eyes. "You didn't know about me."

"I'm sorry," Clarke manages.

"No, it's - it's alright," the girl replies awkwardly, the reply ringing empty and false in both of their ears. "Um, I'm - my name's Raven."

"Clarke," she answers softly. "Ah, did - did you want to come in or something?"

"Yeah," Raven responds hoarsely. "Maybe for a little bit."

They settle down at the couch, and Clarke sets down two glasses of iced tea, coasters shoved errantly under them.

Silence swells suffocatingly, presses in on them like humidity.

Raven clears her throat and it's weirdly pitched and gravelly. "So, what's he to you?"

"Raven..."

"No, I want to hear it," she says insistently, defiance gleaming in her brown eyes.

"He's..." Clarke starts, floundering a little for words. "He's sweet, and nice, and he takes care of me."

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

"He's," she continues hesitantly. "He's just another almost, another _could have been_." She says truthfully. She cannot love him after this. "He's yours," she adds on quietly.

Raven's eyes gleam, and she sniffs and turns away. "Damn straight," she responds. It would have been a truly impressive response if her voice hadn't cracked on a sob, Clarke thinks.

"Do you love him?"

"I've only known him for so long," Clarke deflects.

Raven nods. 

Clarke scoots closer to Raven on the couch, tries to offer whatever support she can without crossing any lines.

"You know," Raven starts after a while. "Of all people he could cheat on me with, I'm glad it was you."

Clarke looks away, cannot meet the long-suffering glint in Raven's eyes.

"I'm glad it was you," she forges on. "Because you're pretty, and sweet, and soft, and nice, and I can see why he would fall in love with you," she sobs out brokenly.

"Raven," she says gently, eyes welling up as her hands find the inside of Raven's wrists and stroke at the delicate skin covering the intricate blue webbing of her veins. She feels the weak pulse beat gently under her fingertips.

"No, it's, it's alright. Hell, even I'm a little bit in love with you and we just met," she jokes, voice wavering only slightly.

Clarke's knees brush against Raven's, and they hold this position for a little longer before a key jostling the lock stirs them back into motion.

"I should go," Raven says, finally. She stands and brushes non-existent lint off her jeans and walks over to the door.

The door opens. Clarke makes her way to the door.

"Don't be a stranger," Raven says, suddenly turning and fiercely crushing her into a hug. Clarke, in turn, wraps her own arms around Raven solidly, breathing in exhaust and musk and conditioner, revels in the solid warmth against her, and leans her head into Raven's slightly before letting her go.

Raven turns and gives a brisk nod to Finn on her way out.

"Clarke..."

"Don't," she says softly. "I just need you to leave." She makes the mistake of making eye contact with him. His normally bright brown eyes are crushingly sad, age-old and tired, begging, begging, begging for another chance. Even his optimistic way of life cannot make this moment any easier.

He turns and makes to leave wordlessly.

"Wait," she says impulsively.

He turns around, a shadow of hope gleaming in his eyes.

"Can you give me Raven's number?"

 He pauses, and nods slowly, like he's just learning how and turns to leave with a new slump in his step. 

She closes the door behind him and locks it. She leans her back against the door and slides down, closes her eyes to soothe the prickling tears, ignores the small slip of paper pushed underneath her door. (It reads,  _xxx-xxx-xxxx, I'm sorry._ )

She sits there for an hour, maybe less, maybe more - time ceases to matter when it comes to the matters of the heart. She only lets herself sob when she hears footsteps pick up and walk away from her door, signalling Finn's departure from her life.

She sobs in all possible ways: angrily, with her fists pressing deep into her eyes and leaving bright imprints on the backs of her eyelids, thinking  _I was so stupid to trust him_ , brokenly, with the sobs tearing at the back of her throat, and tears streaming from her eyes, hollowly, with her head spinning, and feeling like someone scooped her insides out and replaced them with ice.

Clarke sobs until they're uneven breathes fighting their way out of her system, and sobs a little more after that. She cries for brilliant, broken, whip-smart Raven, cries for poor Finn, misguided and hopeful till the end, cries for herself, wishing for a pair of arms she has never felt around her waist and only seen wrapped around another girl's frame.

 

She migrates to the couch after an indeterminate amount of time, stares blankly ahead at the expanse of white wall ahead of her, until she hears a tentative knock-knock-knock at her door.

"I don't want to talk to you, Finn," she says curtly.

"It's not Finn," comes the muffled reply.

"I- sorry, coming," she says hurriedly, combing furiously at tangled blonde waves and wiping at smeared black mascara.

It's Lexa. Lexa, in all her tan, golden, glowing glory, with a small bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand, small box of chocolates in the other. Lexa, with her wild waves thrown carelessly over one shoulder, with her white pocketed tee showing off a lean, trim body, suspenders and jeans so tight they're practically painted on. Lexa, with her soft,  _soft,_ pillowy lips and hard-edged cheekbones, firm set jaw and kind eyes, who's all contradictions and riddles wrapped up so tightly in the form of a human being.

"Lexa," she says dumbly.

"Hello, Clarke," she breathes out sheepishly, saying her name whisper-soft and gently. "These are for you," she says, offering up the chocolates and the flowers. "It's because, um, well," Lexa scratches at the back of her neck and the tops of her ears go red. "The windows," she finishes lamely.

And she really should feel offended that Lexa was listening in,  _eavesdropping_ on her. But she doesn't. Instead she feels a swooping sort of joy in her stomach, knowing finally that through all those weeks of listening and listening and  _listening_ until her cheeks went red, there had been someone on the other side, also listening in, maybe swaying to the gentle ukulele tunes she strummed out, or speaking to the rhythm of her chopping board, maybe trying out the name  _clarke_ late at night, feeling it as it smoothed across her tongue. 

"Thank you," she says quietly.  _They_  only exist in the quiet between moments, the milliseconds before a reply is given, when it's just the two of them breathing in and out in unison, eyes never straying from each other - and yet, how is something so tangible and real nonexistent elsewhere?

She scoops the flowers and chocolates up gingerly, careful to avoid brushing hands with Lexa.

Lexa's lips part in preparation to say something.

"Babe? You done? Let's go," cuts across, gentle and soft, voice clear like a bell, and razor sharp under its deceivingly sweet tone.

Lexa hums lowly. "Sorry," she says, still looking back at Clarke. It's unclear who the apology is intended for.

Anacostia peeks over Lexa's shoulder, and Clarke gets her first good look at her, more than a snippet of laughter and black hair swinging around as she walks the corridors, and she's just floored. Her smooth complexion reminds Clarke of milk chocolate, sweet and silky, and her lips (pink and luscious) are in sharp contrast to her high cheekbones and arched brows. Her hair is jet black and her eyes are so dark that it's impossible to differentiate pupil from iris, but hold a certain and perpetual mischievous glint in them. They are dark and fathomless, and completely unlike her own blue eyes, and they stare back at her curiously. Her lips curve into a small smile and her eyes threaten to wink into crescents as she smiles warmly at Clarke.

"Sorry about the window," she says simply.

"It's not a problem," she responds. "Anacostia, right?"

"I go by Costia, actually. Anacostia makes me sound a thousand years old."

"Costia, then," she tries.

"It was nice seeing you," Lexa interjects. "We have to go, though."

Clarke nods. "Thank you again for the flowers and chocolates," she says hoarsely, gratitude scraping at the back of her throat.

They turn to leave, and Costia turns back to give her a small wave. She closes the door and makes her way back to her couch.

"Poor girl," she hears the murmur through the thin walls. "She didn't deserve any of that."

Lexa only hums in agreement, the sound so incredibly faint that Clarke almost misses it.

She puts the flowers into a vase and fills it with water mechanically, setting it down on her dining table, watches as the stems toss around in the water. She doesn't want anyone's pity - she just wants to stop feeling like someone punched her in the  _fucking aorta_. And suddenly she's horizontal, curled up on the wooden floorboards, clutching herself so tightly because she's  _scared_ she might dissipate if she doesn't. She barely registers the tears as they crawl down the tops of her cheeks and pool around her temple and soak into her hair. The floor's cold, hard, and uncomfortable, and her joints creak in disapproval but at least she's feeling something other than _empty_ , even if it's just the chill of the floor soaking into her bones.

She doesn't know how long she stays there, on the floor of her dining area, with tears slipping out of her eyes, but she's lulled to sleep by the chill in her bones, and when she wakes up, it's not to afternoon light streaming through the window, it's to creamy shafts of moonlight streaking through the slots in her curtains. She brushes the curtains aside and watches as clouds inch towards the moon, threatening with every passing second to obscure her light. And when they finally make it to their goal and block out the moon, leaving Clarke cloaked in the early morning's all consuming darkness, she thinks to herself,  _same._ And she chuckles at her own stupid joke, but it's really not a joke and it's really pathetic how her chuckle gets stuck in her throat and nothing comes out but a tired wheeze.

So she pads, barefoot, across the living room and into her room, shucks off her pants and crawls into bed, exhausted by the day's events.

 

She wakes up to the whistling of a tea kettle and soft laughter. It makes her feel empty. 

But Octavia turns up at her doorstep soon after that, and the sound of shitty movies drowns out the happy domesticity above her. And snuggled into Octavia's side with a large blanket draped over her legs, Clarke feels almost alright again.

When they go out to the bar that night, Clarke invites Raven, and the three get along like a house on fire - which is to say, nothing good can come of their friendship, and  _especially_ so for Finn.

But the night has to come to an end, and when she gets back, she sees the vase of flowers Lexa had previously given her and it fills her with rage. It's simultaneously too much and far too little - so she picks it up and hurls it at the floor, sending glass flying across the floor and water pooling everywhere. The flowers drop at her feet, at the center of the mess, and she just stops and stares.

Two minutes later, there's incessant knocking at her door.

She stumbles over and opens it. Lexa's there, fist still raised to knock, and she drops it slowly. 

"Are you okay?" She asks in a hushed tone.

"I'm fine," Clarke answers automatically.

"I heard crashing and shattering."

"Oh," she says dumbly, her tongue feeling too thick for her to form words with.

"What happened?" Lexa prods gently.

"I - um, I dropped a vase," Clarke answers slowly.

Lexa looks at her, scrutinizing her, scanning her eyes, looking for some sort of answer that Clarke isn't sure of. She sighs, brows furrowed, and says, "Okay."

Clarke stands there, not sure what she should do at this point.

"Well? Are you going to let me in?"

"Huh?"

"I don't want you hurting yourself cleaning the vase."

Clarke shifts aside wordlessly, and Lexa crosses over the threshold gingerly, like she's not sure if the ground will hold up under her feet. And she pads directly over to the mess and looks down at the flowers she'd given Clarke earlier. Scooping them up tenderly, Lexa lays them on the granite surface of Clarke's kitchen and starts to collect glass shards and deposit them in the bin.

It's a relatively silent affair, just the tinkling of glass as it's dropped into the bin and the padding of Lexa's slippered feet. Clarke doesn't make any attempt to start a conversation, just enjoys the scene before her like as it is - a glimpse into a life that could've been. She puts that thought away quickly, because it hurts in ways she couldn't begin to even describe, only that it was oddly nostalgic and wistful all at once.

Lexa finishes up by laying a small kitchen towel to soak up the water on the ground, and stands to leave.

She faces Clarke, green eyes flicking down to her lips for a brief moment in time, before saying, "Take care, Clarke." She walks back down the hall to the stairwell.

Clarke has half a mind to shout don't go, but instead settles for staring at the stairwell long after Lexa has disappeared up it. She wishes Lexa hadn't left. But that's far from appropriate at the moment, so she shakes her head before closing and locking the door. 

She parks her drunk ass in bed after that.

 

Two days later, a vase shows up at her door. Clarke presses the wilting flowers in her journal and leaves them to dry.

 

Tea boils, music plays, feet dance. And so life goes. 

 

It's not until months later, when Finn is less lung-crushing pain and more thorn in her side that she hears it. The shouting, that is. The shouting turns into stomping and crashing and finally it's the door slamming. And then it's silent. She doesn't hear Costia's scrape-scrape-scrape apology and doesn't hear Lexa's shuffle-shuffle-stop acceptance. But it's only been an hour, so she turns to mind her own business.

One hour turns into a couple hours, and then one night, and then one whole day.

The count keeps getting higher.

One whole day turns into two, and then three, and then it's been a week devoid of music and dancing and scrape-scrape-scrape apologies.

And then that week turns into two.

Clarke's chest feels constricted.

So she pads her way to the elevator and rides up one floor and stops in front of 12B. The floorboards creak as she arrives in front of it. She knocks gently three times. "Lexa?" There's movement on the other side, but the door remains firmly shut. "Lexa," she says softly. "Please let me in."

"Lexa," she breathes.

The door creaks open.

Lexa stands there, powerful frame drowning in a large flannel shirt (fingers barely brushing out of the sleeves), with her normally lustrous waves of hair pulled into a weak bun, and tear tracks on her cheeks. She's gaunt, and her wintery green eyes are rimmed red and swollen from crying. "Yes?" She says meekly, fingers trembling where she holds the door open.

"Oh, Lexa," Clarke breathes sadly.

"What do you need, Clarke?" Lexa murmurs tiredly.

"Can I come in?" Clarke asks gently.

Green eyes regard her dolefully.

A beat passes, and Clarke is scared that Lexa may reject her yet.

But she shifts away slowly, leaving Clarke's path unobstructed. And Clarke steps over the threshold decisively, crossing over into unchartered territory. She takes in the room around her and the only way to describe it is that it is just so  _Lexa_. Bare brick walls complement cherry flooring, with simple white furniture placed delicately around the room. It's simplistic and modern, clean and slick, and just exactly what Lexa _would_  do. And therein lies the problem, Clarke thinks to herself. It's  _Lexa_ , no denying that fact, but it's not Lexa and  _Costia_. There is no pretty pastel jacket slung on the couch. There are no flats or heels near the door, only Lexa's smart looking leather desert boots and various other oxfords. No magazines litter the surfaces of Lexa's table.

There is no trace of Anacostia.

Lexa watches her.

Moving over to the kitchen, she spots the tea kettle, and she turns back to face Lexa. "May I?" She asks quietly.

Lexa nods and folds her legs to sit on the couch, still carefully watching Clarke.

She sets the kettle down and delicately removes two white mugs from Lexa's cabinets and waits for the water to boil. She makes them a mug of tea and walks over to set them by Lexa.

"Costia left," Lexa says listlessly. "She's gone," she whispers.

Clarke instinctively reaches out, but stops herself at the last moment, fingers hovering over Lexa's shoulder hesitantly, only fluttering slightly before she reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Lexa's ear. Resting her hand at the junction between Lexa's neck and shoulder, Clarke rubs her thumb in small, smoothing circles, feeling pleasantly surprised when Lexa leans in to her touch.

She scoots a little closer to where Lexa is sitting, folded in on herself and meekly unassuming, until they're sitting shoulder to shoulder. She turns her head to study Lexa like this: a little messy, a little sad, but wholly genuine, and altogether still just as riveting and magnetic as she is usually. When Lexa's eyes mist over and water, she sits closer and says, "When I was young, around 7 or 8, I had this 5 year old golden retriever. I loved him and his name was Teddy. And sometimes, whenever my parents got too busy for me or when I scraped a knee or, really, whenever I was sad, he'd sit next to me, a little like how we're sitting now. And he'd just sit there, sometimes for hours on end. He was my best friend. And then one day, he wasn't there and so I asked my dad where he went. And do you know what my dad said?"

"What did he say?" Lexa asks.

"He said that Teddy went to go live on a farm and that he was happy there," Clarke chuckles.

"Oh no," Lexa says, a little watery but still amused.

"But then I asked again like 8 years later. I wanted the truth, you know? Parents always try to give euphemisms when you're young, so I figured at 16 years of age, I was old enough to hear the truth. And my dad answered the same thing."

Lexa looks over, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"But as it turns out, Teddy actually _was_ living on a farm." Clarke laughs here. "My parents gave him away because they didn't have time to take care of him. My dad took me to see him over that weekend."

"I'm glad," Lexa responds.

"Me too," Clarke says.

 

Lexa gets better in the following weeks - looks a little more alive and smiles a little more (whether or not it's because of Clarke's near daily visits remains to be seen.)

 

"I've loved Costia my whole life," Lexa says one day.

Clarke feels like someone stuck a knife in between her ribs. "Oh," she says evenly.

"I don't know what it feels like not to have and to love her. I loved her when we were kids and she was patching up my scraped knees. I loved her on the monkey bars, so wild and free. I loved her when she scraped up her parent's car, and when she climbed out her window the night she was grounded just so she could see me. I loved her when she was sad, and angry and broken. And now - now that she's not here, I-" Lexa flounders here. "I feel like, like-"

"Like you're a failed high school physics demo and someone's pulled the rug out from under your feet," Clarke says gently.

Lexa swings to face her with wide eyes. "Exactly," she breathes out reverently. "Exactly," she whispers to herself, still looking at Clarke in awe.

Clarke smiles delicately.

 

Loving Lexa is an exquisite kind of pain. It's lazy Sunday mornings, waking up and feeling the covers beside you missing something. It's serotonin zipping through her veins when her phone rings. It's her stomach flipping when she wakes up to a good morning text and it's _maybe_ a second of neglecting to breathe when she sees Lexa walking the halls, because it doesn't  _feel_ like she needs air; it just feels like she needs Lexa. It's her eyes hurting in the morning because she didn't get a good night's sleep with Lexa's smile burned to the back of her eyelids.

 

She doesn't do anything about it until summer falls prey to autumn - and it's not even early fall when she does do something about it. It's _late_ fall, trees barren and the air crisp with the coming winter.

 _It_ starts at a small bonfire bash thrown by the Blake siblings. She invites Lexa to come with her. And just halfway through, beer and cheap liquor are already flowing through everyone's veins and they're all gathered around the crackling bonfire, huddling close to combat the chilly ocean winds blowing through now in late November. Conversation flows easily, broken and dissonant as it is, everyone paired with their own conversation partner. Clarke looks into the fire and leans her head onto Lexa's shoulder, taking a deep breath in. Lexa smells like sweet shampoo, wood smoke, and crisp night air, distinctive and addicting as she draws it into her lungs. Waves crash in behind them and Lexa looks heavenly, lathed in the light of the flickering fire, green eyes dancing along with the flame. Clarke will be damned if she doesn't kiss her.

And it's all raw magnetism, the pull in her belly lending her the courage to press a brief kiss to the corner of Lexa's lips, before relaxing and once more leaning her head down on Lexa's shoulder, heart pounding quicker than it should be.

"Clarke," Lexa says warmly, tasting it as it jostled around her mouth, sweet like she had eaten a handful of candies in one go. When that receives little reaction, she tries again, smoothing her name over her tongue and onto the roof of her mouth, lips sensuously running over the sound. "Clarke."

At this, Clarke sits up and looks over curiously.

 _I don't need the world if I have you,_ sits at the tip of Lexa's tongue, but she cannot vocalize it for fear that it'll be whipped away by the wind here, for fear that Clarke will dismiss it just as easily. A muscle in her jaw jumps and she bites into her bottom lip. 

"Don't shut me out again," Clarke says, a little crestfallen.

"I'm not - I won't," she says hastily. "Not you," she adds on, whisper-soft. 

Clarke's mouth parts around an inhale then, partially in shock and partially in all-consuming love.

So obviously the natural thing for Lexa to do here is to lean in and capture those lips in a kiss that's been a _long_ time coming. Clarke responds immediately and enthusiastically, greedily seeking as much of Lexa as she can, tasting the ocean tang on her lips, breathing in the smoke-shampoo-nighttime air combo that is uniquely Lexa, savoring the moment for fear that it'll be gone with the next tide crashing in.

But it's not. Lexa's there and there to stay - and she's _everywhere_ : hand cupping the back of Clarke's neck, forehead leaning against hers, nose brushing gently at her own, the solid warmth pressing into her mouth, tongue swiping at her lower lip. And in this moment, Clarke seriously questions whether it's possible to  _drown_ in a human being - because what other description is there for what she's feeling now?

 

And after that, they move quickly to make up for months lost dancing around each other. There's a toothbrush that always sits in the master bathroom at Lexa's apartment, and some of Lexa's shoes have permanently migrated to Clarke's apartment.

But it's not easy.

In fact, it's so fucking hard.

Clarke has never known love to hurt so horrendously.

But,  _oh_ , does it set her veins on fire. The adrenaline that sets in from this kind of pain is the exact high that every drug addict strives for. She feels like she's burned raw, fleshy and pink in the face of Lexa's ardent and messy love, like her nerve endings are new, hypersensitive. And it _never_ lets go, it's a vice grip around her heart, constantly beating out the hard edges of Lexa's name.

 

They never put a label to it. This is Clarke's first mistake.

Her second is trusting Lexa to take care of herself, and by extension, Clarke's heart, as they are one and the same.

 

Here's the good news: Lexa loves her likes she's never known how to love before, and Clarke loves her back. Here's the bad news: beautiful, flawed, and manic, Lexa loves her to the point of  _ruin_. And it drives Lexa insane.

 

She's walking up to Lexa's apartment and she brushes by Costia in the hall, and Costia flashes her a small smile, identical to the one she had flashed over Lexa's shoulders so many months ago. And it sends her careening back in time. Her heart feels like it's about to beat right out of her chest, and she tastes copper, bright and metallic in her throat and across the palette of her tongue. She _runs_ to Lexa's apartment, and when she gets to the door, her hand freezes on the door handle. And she steels herself - but there is no use, because upon entering, it's immediately apparent that it is precisely everything she feared and exactly every eventuality she was _not_ prepared for.

Lexa is sitting on the couch, cross-legged, dressed in an oversized shirt, sobbing into her hands, with a fresh new hickey on her neck that Clarke most definitely did  _not_ give to her.

"Clarke," she gasps, pleads, weeps. "Clarke," she whispers, prays, begs. "Oh, Clarke," she mourns.

"Did you," her voice falters here, so she clears her throat, ominous and loud in the quiet of Lexa's apartment. It only causes Lexa to cry harder, doubled over and hunched by the force of her sobs.

"Did you?" Clarke chokes out forcefully.

Lexa continues to sob into her hands, body trembling.

"Well?" Clarke asks angrily. "Did you?" she all but screams. "Tell me that you didn't - not with Costia! Tell me, Lexa!" She shrills out, having worked herself into a frenzy.

"Yes! I fucking did," Lexa screams, voice breaking. "Yes, I kissed her, yes, I slept with - I  _fucked_ _her_. But you want to know what? When I was- I felt _nothing_. I could have been fucking myself for all that I felt. I felt so fucking empty. Did you get that? For the _first time_ in 24 fucking years, my whole fucking life, I felt absolutely nothing when I was with Costia. I spent 24 years loving her, learning her, living her. I had 24 years to learn what I could about the world I lived in. And then I met _you_ , and it felt like Pygmalion breathing life into his statue. I have  _never_  truly lived before I met you, Clarke. And you - brilliant, beautiful, all perfect and _yet_ still torn around the edges - pulled the proverbial rug right out from under my feet: and it's not like you just pulled the rug, but just _meeting_ you has set the whole damn house on fire, too. 

"And now, I _know_ _nothing_ but you, Clarke Griffin. I  _love_ _nothing_ but you. And I am so  _fucking_ terrified." Tears have been falling from her eyes this whole time.

Clarke slumps to the floor, not sure her legs will hold her anymore.

"I'm scared," Lexa sobs weakly. "I don't want to fall anymore. I love you. I love you so much that I'll lose myself."

Clarke lets herself cry, feels the fight drown out of her.

"Are you hearing me? This isn't a drill. I love you so much that I can't quite remember what hating myself feels like. Do you know what you could do to me, Clarke Griffin? You could do _anything_ to me, and I would thank you. I have loved you since we met in that elevator on your first day moving in." Her lips quiver with the confession, and she lifts her head up to look Clarke in the eye, green eyes wide with devotion.

Clarke looks into her eyes, feels the weight of Lexa's doting veneration on her shoulders.

"She was my salvation," Lexa murmurs to herself. "And I was her destruction."

Clarke surges up, rests one hand on Lexa's jugular, nails biting into the tender skin there, and leans in so close, their lips are brushing with every word. Lexa's eyes flutter closed. "If you ever -"

"Never," Lexa murmurs.

Clarke studies her for a long moment, and finally, _finally_ captures Lexa's lips with her own. She tastes salt in the kiss, and she nips at Lexa's lip so hard that the other girl winces at the taste of copper. But after a small while, she lets herself melt back into Lexa's embrace, softens the edges of her kiss, soothes the wound she'd bit into existence earlier, takes every ounce of adoration and worship Lexa pours into the kiss and kisses it right back. At some point in the kiss, she finds herself with her lashes wet, and gasping for air.

 

And when she finds herself in Lexa's bed, kissing her way down the planes of Lexa's stomach, gentle and teasing across the ribs and then bruising and punishing down around the hips, she can't help but ask greedily, desperate to hear it from her mouth, "This is it for you, isn't it?" 

"This is it," Lexa confirms, green eyes meeting hers solidly despite her being right in the throes of pleasure. "You've ruined me for all eternity, Clarke. I'm _yours_ , mind, body, heart, and _soul,_ forever, and then some."

So she sets to work, situates herself in front of Lexa, gently runs her hands on the insides of her thighs and parts them, settling in between her legs. She presses a crushing kiss to Lexa's mouth, and nips at her pulse point, memorizes the feeling of Lexa's heart fluttering with her lips. And she lowers herself, feels Lexa's hand start to fist in her hair, but it's a gentle presence, more of an appreciation rather than a demand. And Lexa comes time and time again, but especially so when Clarke lifts her head and just breathes out  _I love you_.

And after that, she watches while Lexa worships her body. Watches how her hands roam and map out every inch, and commit everything to memory. Sees her blink and stare, blink and stare, blink-stare-blink-stare for the longest time, forcibly searing Clarke into her head over and over again, until Lexa closes her eyes and sees Clarke in the darkness anyway.

That is how they send off the past.

Their future begins like this: Lexa, sleep-soft and swaddled in blankets, completely and utterly tangled up in Clarke, breathing a mantra into Clarke's collarbone,  _I could love you forever, I could love you forever, I could love you forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey! sorry for the slightly angsty trip, just felt like some good old fashioned slowburn could do some good to conteract all the fluff i've been writing (as slowburn as a oneshot can be tbh). but at least it ended well, no? this chapter is over 6000 words long and by far, the wordiest chapter i've ever attempted to date.
> 
> chapter dedicated mostly in part to brilliant artist [kim/carykon](http://carykon.tumblr.com), who i: 1. have always admired, but 2. only recently started talking to. drop by her tumblr and fawn over her art with me!  
> also forever shouting out to my babe elise (hcdalcxa on here) and she has a new zombie exodus story going, go check it out, i'm obsessed. and as always, don't forget to scream at me here: [nxneteens.tumblr.com](http://nxneteens.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading, guys! x


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